Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 17, 2014

He is not old~by Peter Forster


 

 

He is not old

He is not old
He has aged.
Everything is the same
Behind the eyes
It is different for others
Who look back at him,
All they see is lined skin.

His eyes are now set
To look out,
Into the world,
Beyond it,
Looking for the lost,
Things, once found.
Yet to find,
In the leaving behind.
When life was a rush,
A blur of things to do
And less to muse over.

So much energy
Spent in pursuit
Of different, better.
Missing the moment,
In the search of other,
Than was.
The hope of what could be,
Confounding the truth.

What could have been made
If time was spent in contemplation
Of everyday as it passed?
He looked once more,
Into the mirror,
Razor caught halfway
Between face and sink,
A good time to think.

He was at the window
Of a slow train.
Hauling a Pullman
Dining car on a steep track.
A mystery tour,
A one way ticket,
A reserved table,
An open bottle of champagne,
Two glasses,
The best company.

Sit back, he thought,
Enjoy the ride
Too often he missed the scenery
Striving for the destination
Rather than
Appreciating the journey
For its own sake.
The time it would take,
Well spent,
Heaven sent.

She called to him
From the bedroom,
His wife.
And he realised
That somehow against all odds
He had come to the right place,
What he saw was his face,
With his life
Written all over it.


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